we might be dead by tomorrow
by danahscott
Summary: Clarke and Bellamy have lived one floor apart for years, but never spoken. However, an asteroid coming to destroy the entire planet in three weeks has a way of changing things up. A letter sent to Clarke from a long lost someone, Bellamy's mission to get back to his sister before it's too late. Maybe they can help each other out. Did someone say road trip?


If Clarke had been expecting to feel something other than numbness when the radio announcer confirmed the inevitable, it probably would have been something like what Finn seemed to be feeling right now. It was finally official what she already knew would be true: the expedition to stop the asteroid had failed. Humanity had three weeks left. There was a dull, heavy moment of silence - near silence. Finn was crying small, gasping sobs. Clarke waited for what she felt was the appropriate amount of time before nodding and turning to Finn. "Okay. Let's go home."

He rubbed his eyes clumsily and looked at her as if she'd grown another head. "Home? You wanna just… go home?"

He hadn't been taking any of this well. And he had been sure, so sure, that the expedition would be a success, that a small spacecraft could somehow solve all their problems and all would be as it was. "Well, Finn, where else would we go?" Clarke couldn't lie - she really wasn't trying to get into a fight with her boyfriend when there were only a few weeks left of her life, but he made it so easy sometimes. She'd break up with him if she thought it was worth the trouble. She almost laughed when the question struck her: who would get the apartment?

"I don't know," Finn said, sounding and looking desperate. "Somewhere. Anywhere. Oh, god." And then, he started crying again. Clarke didn't know how she was so calm about all of this. He'd wanted to come out to their spot, the place in the park where they'd shared their first kiss, and he wanted them to be there when they found out that they were all saved. Clarke told him it was a bad idea, and he told her to stop being such a pessimist and she had to bite her tongue to avoid an argument. Now he was crying.

She clicked her phone off, and with it, silenced the newcaster's voice. That seemed to ease Finn's pain a little bit, and so, when she grabbed his hand, he allowed her to lead him back to their apartment.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

It really sank in that night, as Clarke rolled over in bed and found an empty space where Finn should have been. For a second, she thought he'd just gone, and there was this desolate, abandoned feeling of unsurprise washing over her. They'd been fighting, but she had loved him. She really had, that wasn't a lie. Maybe not as much anymore, and maybe in a different way, but it hadn't just vanished. So when she heard his voice near the front door, she was relieved. Maybe they could start fresh - reignite the honeymoon stage. Clarke was pretty sure they could make it last three weeks. And by the time the asteroid struck, maybe she would even be glad that she was dying in Finn's arms.

She headed towards the front door, wondering who in the world could make the effort to visit after hearing an announcement like the one from a few hours ago. The realization kept hitting Clarke in waves. Three weeks. Three weeks. Three weeks. What was three weeks? It was nothing. It was no time at all. She wondered when the numbness would finally fade enough to let her understand that. But her train of thought was quickly interrupted when she finally made it to the front door and heard another unfamiliar voice - belonging to a woman.

"I just had a bad feeling that maybe you were wrong, and the expedition wouldn't work, and I didn't want to risk not seeing you again. And I heard the planes are gonna stop running, so I - I just knew I had to get here and be with you."

Something about the conversation felt so - intimate. Uninterruptible. It took Clarke a minute to realize that since her boyfriend was the one being addressed, she could interrupt whatever she wanted. Though maybe there was a churning in her gut that told her she wouldn't want to interrupt this, that she wouldn't like what she found out. But Clarke was nothing if not brave. And when Finn hesitated to answer, she took her cue to emerge into view.

"Finn? Who's this?"

The woman - the really beautiful woman, now that Clarke saw her - pulled back and blinked, a little wary. "I'm Raven. Who are you?"

"Clarke, I can explain -" Finn started, but Raven was the one to cut him off.

"What do you mean, explain? Who is she and what's she doing in your apartment?"

"This is my apartment," Clarke said, turning her eyes on Finn. Technically, it was their apartment, but she'd had it first. And that churning in her gut seemed to be right about what was happening.

"Are you his roommate?" Raven asked, not quite looking at Finn, like she was scared of what she'd see. She asked the question like she already knew the answer.

"I'm his girlfriend," Clarke said after a long pause. The words seemed to hit Raven like a physical blow. Then, tears growing in her eyes, she gave Finn a blow of her own. In the nose, to be exact. Then, she turned on her heel and left.

Leaving Clarke with a bleeding Finn, standing in the hallway and wondering how her life had gotten to this point. Here she was, utterly confronted with her own mortality. Now was the time to decide how she wanted to live. And all Clarke could think was that there was no way in hell she was spending the rest of her life with this absolute asshole.

"Clarke -" he started, but she turned on her heel.

With her back to him and her voice steady, she said "You have until sunrise to get your stuff and get out. I never want to see you again." She made sure to stay steady as she walked away, and only when the door to their room - her room - was shut did she let the tears come to her eyes. Okay, one year. She wondered who came first, her or Raven. But did it matter? Whatever it was, it was over. What the fuck was Clarke supposed to do with the rest of her life now? All three weeks of it.

She panicked when she heard his footsteps coming toward the door. He was going to want to talk this out, to waste time that Clarke didn't fucking have. So she slipped out the window onto the fire escape, climbed a story above her and took a seat. She let her legs hang down, and then she just leaned against the railing, looking at the city. She'd spent so much time planning for the future. Technically she was still enrolled in med school. She had dreams of retiring one day to be an artist. Dreams of kids, of travel, of adventures, of love. She used to love this city so much. Looking out at it, you would never be able to imagine it destroyed. That was why she'd moved to Arkadia. It was supposed to be a city of possibilities.

At one time, there were endless possibilities in Clarke's life. Now there were only unresolved questions, and just one big, black answer and it would come for her in three weeks time. It seemed kind of futile to hide her tears out here, so she gave in and let herself cry. She was crying for Finn, for herself, for Raven, the girl she didn't know, the world she would never see, all the precious lives that she would never be able to save. What good was being a doctor when everyone was going to die anyway?

Besides, it felt good to cry, in a strange, cathartic way. It felt good to finally be having an appropriate reaction. And she could be the only person in the world out here, in the living, moving dark. At least, she felt that way until a window opened behind her. Clarke jumped back, teetering dangerously over the edge. A warm hand landed on her shin, keeping her steady. Her eyes flickered up to see a man, not much older than her. Scruffy brown hair, a grey sweater on, and the deepest brown eyes she had ever seen. "Hello?" he said, as if he was on a phone call and not looking directly at her.

Clarke said nothing. At least she'd stopped crying, but clearly this guy had heard her, so he already knew she'd been out on his fire escape, blubbering like a baby.

"Are you okay?"

Clarke just looked at him. She'd climb back into her own apartment if she thought Finn would have left by now.

"I'm Bellamy. Is everything okay?"

"No," she said. Bellamy froze, clearly a little unsure of what to do. Then, Clarke remembered that even if the world was ending in three weeks, manners were still important. "I'm Clarke," she said.

Bellamy took a deep breath and then tried a smile. It had a nice effect on the rest of his face, made it softer somehow. Around the edges. He had the kind of face that would be nice to draw. "It's kind of cold out here. Do you want to come in? I can make you tea."

Clarke paused, considering him. "You're not going to murder me or anything, are you? Never mind, I don't actually care," she finally said, climbing through the window.

Bellamy pulled back, eyebrows furrowed. "I feel like you should care a little."

Clarke shrugged. "You'd only be beating the universe by three weeks. What difference does twenty-one days make?"

Bellamy looked at her, quiet for a moment. "Depends how you live them." The words hung heavy in the air between them for a second before Clarke turned away, humming noncommittally and examining his apartment instead. It was nice. A large bookshelf in the corner, which was funny, because Clarke would definitely have pegged him as more of a jock-type, just based on his general build. In a box next to the lamp were a bunch of records that Clarke was itching to leaf through. It was very nice, much cleaner than most guys' apartments. She wondered why he bothered keeping it clean considering, you know, everything. He said something else, then, but she wasn't paying attention, so he repeated it. "So what had you crying on the fire escape? The usual existential crisis?"

Clarke managed a laugh at that. "No. Well, maybe a little." She tried to think of how to phrase it without making herself sound as pathetic as she felt. She settled on a half-truth. "I just broke up with someone."

"Now's a good time to do it."

"Actually, I think I'd call it procrastination."

That earned another smile from Bellamy, just as dazzling as the first one. Her hands itched for a pencil. "I mean it, though. Now's the time to live your life like it was meant to be."

"Yeah? And how are you doing that?"

Bellamy's shoulders tensed at the question. "I'm not." Clarke raised an eyebrow, but he didn't look at her, so she waited for him to say something. She was relieved when he finally did. "I fucked it up. The planes stopped running. My little sister is across the ocean." He looked at Clarke, and she wondered how a face could be so expressive, and yet so reserved. It was something in the eyes - that was what she kept coming back to. The depth. Maybe she wouldn't have noticed it if she wasn't an artist, but she didn't know how it would be possible not to notice. Anyway, the eyes looked just as fucking devastated as Clarke would imagine the circumstances required. His voice, on the other hand, betrayed no sign of emotion at all. It even had an edge of humor to it - like a "can you believe my luck" kind of tone. But he shook himself out of whatever moment he was having and said, "I'll get you some tea."

Clarke nodded, sinking into the couch. Her heart didn't feel any lighter, but this guy was a welcome distraction from the shitshow upstairs. She would prefer he return with booze, but she didn't have the energy to ask. Plus, she still wasn't entirely convinced he wasn't going to murder her just for the hell of it. According to the news, it was like the fucking Purge in the worse parts of town. Bellamy came back within a few minutes, presumably after getting the hot water ready. He seemed like the type to use an actual kettle. Clarke could picture his kitchen, probably as tidy as the rest of his house. It was exactly the kind of house a murderer would have.

But she was a little surprised when she realized that she really didn't care. Like, really. If he murdered her right now, it didn't really matter. Maybe she'd actually meant what she said. It wasn't like she wanted to die, but the idea of spending the next few weeks alone in her apartment, watching shitty movies, growing comfortable with the sound of her own silence, and waiting for the inevitable end sounded like the most depressing thing ever. Almost insurmountably depressing.

"So, why the fire escape and not your apartment?"

Clarke snapped out of her thoughts, looking sharply at Bellamy and trying to figure out what he was asking.

"I mean, I've seen you around, so I know you live here. So what brought you out there?"

He'd seen her around? That was a little murdery. "My boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, I guess, is still down there. I'd rather sleep out on the fire escape than in bed with him."

Bellamy was quiet for a moment, and then in a hesitant voice, "You could always crash here."

Clarke bit her lip. Definitely a murderer. "Yeah," she said, hoping it sounded convincing. "That would be great, actually."

There was that smile again. So maybe not a murderer? But wasn't Ted Bundy super charming too? And rationally, Clarke knew that some murderers had nice smiles. She also knew that murderer or not, she didn't have time to get caught up in anyone else's shit. She didn't want the time, really. And though he was creepy good at hospitality, Clarke wagered that maybe he was just a nice guy. Too nice to poison her tea, unfortunately. So when the kettle whistled - she was right, he _did _have a kettle - and he went to go get her drink, she quietly slipped back out the window, down the fire escape and into the darkness of the city night.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The next part was kind of a blur. She couldn't go home, that much was clear. But she didn't really want to. There was a twinge of guilt as she snagged the booze from the store, but the teenager behind the desk didn't seem to care. Everyone was stealing stuff these days, and though Clarke wanted very much to assert that she _was not _one of those people, she didn't want to have to see Finn just to grab her wallet. Then, without paying too much attention to which ones, she grabbed some pills from the pharmacy section. She figured anything would do the trick.

She drank a few shots from the vodka bottle first. Liquid courage, maybe? She found herself in the park a block away from her apartment. Her favorite park, definitely not the same one she had kissed Finn in. She used to sit here and draw before med school got too busy. It was empty tonight, which could be in part because it was one in the morning. The moon was full, casting light in a very pretty way. It occurred to Clarke that this was the last full moon anyone would ever see.

The thing was, it wasn't that she wanted to die. It was just that the next few weeks would be bleak and sad, and then she would just have to watch everyone else die, watch the world burn. Those would be her final moments. Why not go now, before the gravity of the announcement fully sunk in tomorrow? Why not go when the world was whole, and warm, and beautiful?

A few more shots. And then a handful of the pills she'd nicked from the store. Then one more shot for good measure. And then Clarke sat back. Breathed in the night air. Felt the grass brushing her ankles. Tried to think of nothing. And she couldn't pinpoint the moment she drifted off into inky blackness, but it was peaceful, like she'd hoped.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Waking up the next morning, on the other hand, was a real bitch. The first thing she comprehended was someone shaking her shoulder, first gently, then a little roughly. It took Clarke a while to bring her consciousness fully to the surface, but when she finally did, it was with a groan. She thought she'd been hung over before, but that was nothing compared to this. When she managed to blink her eyes open, she saw the sky was a light pink-ish color. She wondered what time it was.

Clarke wasn't even thinking about who it was who had woken her until his face loomed above hers. The man she'd met last night. She tried for a second to remember what his name was, then it came to her. Bellamy. "Are you okay?" he said, looking alarmed and relieved at the same time.

"Is that how we say hello?" she said as she sat up, a feeble attempt at a joke. But it made relief win the battle that had been taking place on his face.

He was holding the half empty pill bottle, so it seemed he'd already pieced together what had happened. It had seemed like a good idea the night before, but Clarke was kind of glad it hadn't worked. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Nice, hospitable Bellamy was looking kind of pissed now. "Why are you mad at me? You don't even know me. Besides, I can't be the first body you've found." It was true. For the past month, there had been an epidemic of suicides. People didn't want to face the magnitude of lights out for everyone forever. And there was no way to tell if it would hurt, if it would be prolonged, if they'd be plunged into a brief post-apocalyptic world before dying out like the dinosaurs did. Some people just couldn't handle the weight of it. Some couldn't handle the pressure. Clarke had seen her fair share, right up until leaving med school and even after that. That was why she didn't use public bathrooms anymore.

Bellamy was quiet at her words for a moment, his face sober and serious. "Not even the first one I know."

"Who -"

"Jasper. Friend from college. I think it was all just a bit much for him." Clarke nodded. She felt bad he'd had to find her, then. It couldn't have been easy to relive it. "Was it all a bit much for you?" he asked.

Clarke shrugged, embarrassed, wishing she could just go home. "I guess I just didn't want to sit around and wait for it."

"That's stupid."

"Is it?"

"I don't know. Maybe it'll miss," he said. He wasn't smiling now, but he looked a little less sad than before, so Clarke decided to humor him.

"You think so?"

"No," he said, and Clarke was glad. She liked honesty. "But maybe it will. We're still breathing, aren't we? Through no effort of your own."

Something about that did give Clarke a little bit of hope. God knew she could use it. "What time is it anyway?"

"Six."

"God, what are you doing out?"

"I always run at this time." As soon as he said that, Clarke noticed the sneakers, the athletic shirt, and wow, okay, this guy was ripped. Again, she had that urge to draw him.

"Seriously? The world's ending in three weeks and you still work out?"  
"Endorphins," he said, simply. Clarke didn't buy it, but she also understood how important routine became when everything seemed pointless, so she said nothing. He reached a hand out, and it took Clarke a moment to realize he meant for her to take it. "Let me walk you home."

Part of her wanted to argue, but most of her just wanted to go eat something, sleep off the rest of this hangover and figure out what to do with the next few weeks. So, she took Bellamy's hand, which was warm and rough, and wordlessly, they made the short walk to their apartment.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

She hesitated when she got to her door. Bellamy sensed it instantly, and he turned to her. "What's wrong?"

This guy must have thought she was a basket case. Something always seemed to be a problem with her when he was around. "I'm just… I'm worried he's still going to be there."

And then his hand found her shoulder - still warm, still rough. "If he is, I'll make him leave."

Clarke nodded. It felt good to know that there was someone there with her, even if it was just for the next five minutes. She turned the key in the lock, and with only a little bit of hesitation, she turned the handle and opened the door. The apartment was quiet, empty. Emptier than it was before she left. So he was gone. Clarke's heart still hurt, but she felt relieved.

That is, until she saw what Finn had left on the table. A sealed envelope, with a post-it note attached to it. "Sorry, princess. For everything." She didn't want to read his letter, didn't give a shit about what else he had to say to her. But something tugged at her. She peeled the post-it off, agonizingly slowly. She recognized the handwriting underneath. It wasn't Finn's. With all the breath going out of her body, she sank into her kitchen chair. She'd never thought she'd have to confront these feelings again. She'd closed this chapter of her life. It was over.

Bellamy was saying something but Clarke didn't hear him, or even notice his presence, until he pulled the letter, still unopened, from her hands. "Hey!" she said, reaching to snatch it back.

He rolled his eyes, sitting in the chair next to her. "I'll hand this back in a second, but you were looking like you wanted to murder this letter." He slid it across the table towards her, but Clarke made no move to touch it. "What's the deal? Who's Lexa?"

"She was…" Clarke didn't know what to say. How could she describe the first person she ever loved? The first person to ever break her heart?

But Bellamy seemed to understand this in the silence. "The one that got away?"

"Well, they all got away in the end. But yeah, she was the first." The letter looked so tiny, sitting there in the middle of the table. But it was massive. The date was three months ago. Finn had been hiding this for three months? And why would Lexa send her a letter? What could she possibly have had to say after all this time?

"Tell me about her," Bellamy said, but gently. Like he would understand if she didn't want to.

"Lexa was… a force of nature. When I was with her, it was like there was nothing else in the world. But when she was gone… We were supposed to go to Rome together." Bellamy's eyes widened, half with what seemed to be surprise, and half of something Clarke couldn't decipher. "We met in college. She was a writer, and I had this crazy idea that I would be an artist, and we both got this internship through our school working under artists in Rome. We were all set to go and then…" Clarke took a deep breath. Even after years, it was still hard to talk about. "Then, my dad died. I was home for the summer, we were supposed to start our fall semester abroad. It was only a couple weeks before we were supposed to go. And, uh, I couldn't go anywhere. I couldn't even get out of bed in the morning. Lexa and I had been together for two years. I thought maybe, at least for a little while, she'd stay. But she left. She didn't even say goodbye in person. That phone call was the last time I ever heard from her." Her eyes flicked down to the letter on the table. "Until now."

She felt his question, even though he didn't ask it. Was she bitter, sad, angry? Did she hate her, even only a little, for leaving? But most importantly, was she going to open the letter? If the world wasn't ending, Clarke might have left it untouched. This letter would only make more trouble in her life. But now… Well, what did she have to lose? Curiosity might have killed the cat, but the big giant asteroid hurtling toward her was bound to do her in anyway, so might as well take the plunge. She slipped her finger under the seal and was overwhelmed at the sight of Lexa's messy scrawl. She could still decipher it perfectly.

_Clarke. I'm sorry about how we left things. If I could go back and do it again, I would never have left you. I thought that sacrificing my career for you would have made me weak, but it took being away from you for years to realize that you made me strong. We only have months left now. If you can forgive me, if any part of you feels the same, I'd like to spend that time with you. _

_You were the love of my life._

_Love, _

_Lexa_

It was like all the air had gone out of the room. There were months, years really, where Clarke had waited for words like this. And now, here - at the end of the world - her waiting was over. She didn't know how to feel. Bellamy was waiting on bated breath - the end of the world, and this guy got saddled with her drama. "Clarke?" he asked, when he realized she was looking at him. "You okay?"

The answer came automatically, without much thought as to whether or not it was true. "I'm fine." Silence hung in the air between them for a moment. It felt heavy. "Thanks for walking me home, Bellamy. I'd say I'll see you around, but that's probably not true."

It took Bellamy a beat and a half to realize that it was his cue to leave. Maybe there was a moment where disappointment flickered in his face, but Clarke didn't have the energy to ask him to stay. In another life, they could have been friends. Maybe more - he was exactly her type. But this was the crap deal they got, so why spend three weeks making small talk with a total stranger? That thought felt a little bit like a lie when she looked at Bellamy, but once he was on the other side of the door, Clarke felt a little relieved. And maybe a little emptier, too.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

There was a lot on her mind that night, but her head was still pounding, so she went to bed before the sun had gone down. One good thing about the world ending right now - at least it wasn't ending during daylight savings time. At least there were sunrises, sunsets, and sunlight to see humanity out the door. That thought struck Clarke a little funny for some reason, but she was too tired to laugh. The sky was just turning orange when she shut her eyes.

When she woke up, the world was on fire.

Half in a dream, half out of it, Clarke had no idea what was going on. It wasn't until she heard the sound of breaking glass that she figured it out. The inevitable riot, humanity's descent into chaos - the thing the news had been warning for months. It had finally come. There were no consequences now, which meant that Arkadia wasn't safe. Her mind reached clumsily in the dark for a few moments trying to figure out what to do, what was the right move. But as soon as a thought could fully form, her mind went directly to Bellamy. She didn't even hesitate. Taking nothing with her, she climbed out of her bedroom window onto the fire escape, fully intending to knock on his window.

Instead, Bellamy's face greeted her on the stairs, already on his way down to see her. Clarke's heart lifted at the sight of relief on his face - she knew that he wasn't going to say no.

"You have a car, right?" Clarke shouted over the sounds of the fighting below them.

Bellamy nodded, eyebrows furrowed.

"I know someone with a plane. If you can get me where I need to go, I can get you to your sister."

Without even a moment of hesitation, Bellamy said, "Let's get out of here."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

It had seemed like a really good idea when Clarke first thought of it. Five hours afterwards and walking car-less on an abandoned highway in the middle of nowhere, she longed for her tiny apartment, safe or not.

"I live in the city," Bellamy said, sounding guilty. "I forget to fill the tank sometimes. I didn't know I'd be going somewhere."

"I didn't say anything," Clarke said, shrugging. Silence would be preferable, but the apologetic look she knew Bellamy was throwing her was hard to ignore.

"Is this a no on the plane, then?" he asked.

Clarke turned to face him, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to shut him down completely. "It's not exactly close enough to walk to. Sorry."

He nodded, absorbing this blow, and then he shrugged. "Okay. Find us a car. Step one."

Optimism. It was funny - it was so annoying, the way Finn wore it, but there was something endearing about the way Bellamy refused to give up. "What's step two?" she said, playing along.

"Get you where you need to go." He said it so simply, but no one had ever really taken Clarke's wishes to heart so earnestly as he did. She was touched, and embarrassed at herself, so she didn't look at him and kept walking. Bellamy took this as his cue to keep talking. "It's about Lexa, isn't it?" Her silence was basically a yes, but she nodded anyway. "So where do we find her?"

Clarke liked that he didn't ask her about the letter, or what her plan was. Because she had no idea. There was a part of her - a rather large part - that was still so angry at her for leaving. But Clarke thought she could fend off the anger for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't the best plan ever, but it was the only one she had. "The letter was sent from Polis. I have to hope she's still there." It wasn't too bad a drive, but with two and a half weeks of planet Earth left, anything felt like wasting too much time. Lexa could be a bucket-lister, she could have gone back to Rome, or her family. She could have gone the way of Bellamy's friend, Jasper, Clarke thought with a shudder. This was her only shot, though.

"And the plane? Where's that?"

"The plane is in Eden." Only half a day's drive from Polis. So, if they hadn't had to abandon the car, they might have had a good chance of making it. But here they were, strolling along an empty highway. She could hear Bellamy's brains making the same calculations she had already made. Want to spend the last days of your life with a total stranger who may or may not be completely crazy? "Look, Bellamy, you don't actually need to get caught up in my shit. It's fine."  
"I said I was gonna get you there, and I'm going to. Plane or not."

"You know, I don't get you. Why are you so unnervingly eager to help?" Clarke asked, finally looking up at him. "Maybe you are a murderer."

The corner of Bellamy's mouth twitched like he wanted to laugh, but instead he sighed. "I've been looking after my sister for so long. It just feels weird not to have anyone to take care of. So don't think I'm not getting anything out of this either, Princess."

"Princess?"

Now he really looked like he wanted to laugh. "Sorry. Saw the nickname on the post-it note. Just kind of fits." Clarke huffed, but didn't argue. She was too tired to argue. "Besides, don't pretend like you're not trying to help anyone either. I'm a stranger. You're trying awfully hard to get me to Octavia."

"Actually, I'm just using you for your car. Or I was."

"You could have stolen it. Hell, you probably could have asked me for it, and I think you know that."

Screw Bellamy. So what if he was right? Yeah, she could have stolen his stupid car. She could have figured something else out. But when the cards were down, and people were in trouble, Clarke was the kind of person who stepped in. And Stupid Bellamy had figured it out, and now she was stuck with him. Maybe what he was saying was a good thing. Probably, it was. But being who she was hadn't given her much happiness during her normal life. She thought her pre-apocalyptic life might benefit from a bit of a change.

Apparently not. Still, the car thing gave her an idea. There were a few houses and barns along this highway, and they were coming up on one now. Without a word of warning to Bellamy, Clarke veered off the path and toward someone's front door.

"Uh, Clarke? Gonna fill me in on what we're doing?"

She responded to his question by knocking on the front door. He shot her a skeptical look but he stood by her anyway. After a few moments, the door opened a crack and a sliver of face showed. And then after another moment, in which this person was likely sizing Clarke and Bellamy up, the door opened all the way. So they didn't look dangerous. Clarke filed that information away for later. "Yes?" said a voice - an old voice, a woman's.

"Hi. I'm Clarke. This is Bellamy. Can we have your car?"

Both Bellamy and the old woman looked at her in surprise, but she knew what she was doing. After a brief awkward silence, the woman asked, "What for?"

"I'm trying to get him to his sister. He's trying to get me to an… old friend." Clarke figured that was the best way to put it. "But our car broke down, so… we're stuck. Since there's a few weeks left, I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask, in case you're not planning on using it."

The old woman stared at her closely for another moment. Then, she closed the door in her face. Well, it was worth a try. Bellamy's hand found hers, a brief attempt at comfort. They'd just turned around to keep walking when the door opened again and a hand reached out to them. Dangling from the hand's fingertips was a beautiful set of keys. "There's more gas in the trunk. Good luck."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Clarke felt pleased and Bellamy seemed impressed, giving her a simple "Nicely done, Princess," before settling into the driver's seat of the pick-up truck, so this road trip was feeling a lot less doomed than it was just ten minutes ago. The sun was warming Clarke's face through the open window. Thank god the world was ending in spring. Bellamy was humming some song from before either of them were born that was playing softly on the radio. Clarke was asleep before she knew she was falling.

When she woke up, the sun was a little lower in the sky and not much time had passed. Bellamy was still listening to the radio and the light was turning him golden. Whatever this situation was, it suited him - if it was possible for the end of the world to suit anyone. Or maybe he was always like this, effervescent. "Do you want me to drive for a while?" she asked him.

He looked over at her, interrupted in whatever thought he was having. "No, that's okay. I like driving. Besides, you look nice when you're sleeping." He paused for a moment, hearing how that probably sounded. "And by nice, I mean less pissed-off."

Clarke's sleep-addled brain didn't have a filter, apparently, so she found herself asking this question the moment it crossed her mind. "Okay, well, how are you coping with the pre-apocalyptic world so well, then? What's your secret? Aren't you at least a little pissed-off?"

Bellamy thought about her question for a moment. "My method was to get my breakdown over and done with at the start."

Oh. So no, he wasn't always like this. "What happened?"

He shrugged. "Nothing too bad. The world was ending, right? So I thought I could do whatever the hell I wanted. Drank myself stupid every night, stopped going to work, brought home a different girl from the bar each time I went." He said that last bit with a sheepish look at Clarke.

"Okay. And what changed?"

"Well. You asked me if I was pissed off. I _am _pissed off - at myself. If I'd had any sense at all, I would have gotten on a flight to Octavia the day the announcement came out, but I was too busy pissing the precious little left of my life away. I'm not pissed off at the world, though, not like you are. Not that you're wrong to be or anything, it's just… I don't know. It's like I knew something like this would happen. I never saw myself as an old man."

"Bellamy," Clarke said, not knowing what else to say. So many more questions floated on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't want to pry. This was the first time he'd ever seemed nervous. She could tell opening up wasn't really his thing. So, instead, she just took her hand and placed it lightly around his wrist.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," he said, looking down, but Clarke had a feeling it was as bad it sounded. "Just… with Octavia… things would get hard, and we'd always scrape by, but I just thought that one day, we wouldn't be able to. I wouldn't be able to. At least this way, it's not my fault." Then he laughed, but only a low chuckle, and then he cleared his throat, signalling to her that he was done with the "Bellamy opens up" part of their road trip.

But what Bellamy said had gotten Clarke thinking. She opened her mouth without knowing what was going to come out of it, and surprised herself. "Well, I thought I was gonna live forever."

That earned a real laugh from Bellamy. "Is that so, princess?"

"Really. I mean, that's why this… I never did all the things I wanted to because I figured I'd have time later. You know, I'd get through med school, get married -"

"To Finn?" he teased.

"No. Never to him," Clarke said, jokingly, but meaning it. "Maybe have kids one day, maybe not, but definitely a dog, and then when I was old enough to retire, I'd move out to the country and spend the rest of my time being an artist." It almost sounded stupid to say out loud, but Bellamy didn't laugh. He did smile, though. A quiet smile, like he didn't realize he was doing it.

"Sounds like a nice life."

"Yeah," she said, fighting back the beginning of tears, "I think it would have been."

"Well, look at it this way," Bellamy said, looking right at her and ignoring the empty road ahead of them - but Clarke knew he wouldn't let them crash. "You're getting in one more adventure just under the wire."

"True," she replied, noncommittally.

He was quiet for a long time. Clarke thought maybe he had put a stop to the conversation. But then he said, softly, "She must be pretty special if you want to find her after all this time."

"Yeah, she was." But she didn't want to talk about Lexa just now. "What about you? Did you have one who got away?"

Bellamy quickly looked away, towards the road, shrugging. "Not really." But there was an odd tone to his voice.

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what?'"

"I mean, why are you being so weird? Here I am, spilling my entire life story to you and you won't tell me about your long lost love."

"To be fair, it has only been three days."  
Wow, was that right? It felt like she'd known him so much longer. But she just narrowed her eyes. "Okay… I guess you don't have to tell me."

"No, it's not… Her name was Echo, and I wouldn't exactly call her the one who got away, but she was the big one. The only big relationship I ever had, really. There was Gina, in high school. She was nice. Moved away. But that was different."

"What happened? Between you and Echo?" Clarke would never be this nosy with anyone else, and Bellamy didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd be this open, but the end of the world brought out new dimensions in everyone.

"We were young. Life just pulled us in different directions. She went into the military, and I didn't go with her."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be. It was for the best. We were always really… intense, I guess. And I couldn't do the all or nothing thing with her anymore." He seemed to spot something up ahead then, because he craned his neck a little to see. "Forget that, though. You hungry?"

And Clarke followed his gaze to see a restaurant named Friendsy's. "I could eat."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"Hey! Welcome to Friendsy's, where everyone's your friend!" Clarke was a little overwhelmed upon stepping into the bar. There were people everywhere in the dim, but warm, lighting. And the thing was… they all seemed sort of happy? She didn't know what to make of it, and from the look on Bellamy's face, neither did he. But he was smiling. And so was she. There was something infectious about the sound of laughter.

"I'm Monty. I hope a booth is okay because we burned all our chairs last week."

"Why?" Clarke asked.

"It was a drug-induced motive. I don't know if you've ever heard of jobi nuts, but they're fantastic."

"I can't believe you guys are still open," Bellamy said.

"We thought about closing up shop, especially when most of the upper management quit, but a lot of us wanted to stay. Plus, now we can basically do whatever we want, which means your meals tonight are courtesy of the asteroid coming to kill us all."

"Ah, much obliged," Clarke said, laughing. She glanced at the menu and spotted the first thing to catch her eye. "How are your mudslides?"

"Our mudslides rule, but might I interest you in some moonshine? Homemade!"

"Monty, no one wants to try your fucking moonshine! That shit's lethal!" shouted a voice from the kitchen area. It sounded vaguely familiar, but Clarke couldn't quite place it.

"That's Raven, she'll be your server tonight."

Clarke remembered where she heard the name at the same time Raven came out of the kitchen and locked eyes with her. If Bellamy felt Clarke tense up beside him, he didn't say anything, but he did give her a look. She was too preoccupied to find out whether it was one of reassurance or confusion.

Raven was hard to read. "It's you."

"Yeah," Clarke said quietly. "Sorry."

They held each other's gaze for a moment before Raven took a few tentative steps closer to Bellamy and Clarke's booth. "Can I sit?"  
Clarke nodded. "About the whole, uh Finn thing," she started, but Raven held a hand up to silence her.

"Stop. It is so boring to blame the other girl for your boyfriend's mistake." She looked away from Clarke for the first time since seeing her. "You really didn't know?"

"I swear I didn't."

A collective sigh of relief seemed to pass through the table, even from Monty and Bellamy who seemed to have sensed the tension in the air. "Then we're square." Raven narrowed her eyes for a moment. "What are you doing out here?"

Clarke considered how to answer that. "Road trip," seemed to be the most truthful option with the least details. "What about you?"

"Monty's a friend from high school. Gave him a ring, he gave me a job. And now, I'm gonna get you guys some food."

She was gone before Bellamy said, confused, "But we didn't order anything."

"Don't worry," Monty said. "You're in safe hands." And then he left too.

Clarke and Bellamy sat in silence for a moment before Clarke finally said what they were both thinking and whispered, "There are definitely going to be drugs in our meals, aren't there?"

He laughed. Clarke liked making him laugh. To their left, a conga line was breaking out and behind Bellamy something that looked suspiciously like an orgy was just beginning. "So, at this point in our trip, I figure I can ask. How do you know someone with a plane?"  
She sighed and looked down. "Know might not be the right word. I knew someone with a plane." She looked up again, and gently said, "I told you not to get your hopes up."  
"Understood, princess. They are decidedly down."

"If we can find them, though, Bellamy, I think they'll help us. I wouldn't be dragging you with me if I didn't."

"I know. I trust you, Clarke. And besides," he said, a smile playing at the corners of his lips, "I didn't really have anything better to do."

Raven chose that moment to return with the drinks: tall, pink somethings that looked like milkshakes but Clarke knew better. "Hey, Raven, just how drugged are these? We were planning on hitting the road again. We're kind of working with a deadline here."

"On a scale of one to ten? About a six. They'll be out of your system in an hour and a half."

Bellamy's eyes met hers. A dare. A challenge. Clarke never turned down a chance to prove herself. "I think I can handle a six. What about you, princess?"

"Bring it on."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

In hindsight, maybe at least one of them should have abstained. It probably would have prevented what happened next. But as they were leaving, everything inside Clarke felt bubbly and light, and the stars were scattered above their heads, clearer than they ever were in Arkadia. His hand was wrapped around hers, and it was so warm.

Bellamy's back bumped against the car door, and Clarke was so busy laughing at him that she didn't realize how close they were until she found herself laughing against his mouth. He tasted like strawberries and sugar, which no doubt was from the milkshake, but she found herself wondering what he tasted like all the time. He kissed her back with such fervour, something Finn had never, ever done, that Clarke suddenly became weak in the knees. Though, the weakness definitely could have been due to the drugs.

Without disentangling his left hand from her hair, he used his right to open the door behind him - to the backseat of their pick-up truck, and she surprised herself by being more okay with it than she had ever been with anything else. Still, the drugs had made saying no feel almost impossible. That was definitely part of it. The rational part of Clarke's brain, the part that went to med school, was repeating these utterances in her ear, but when Bellamy kissed her neck and whispered "I bet I can fuck you better than Finn did," well. That had a lot more traction.

She giggled as she climbed in behind him. "That wouldn't be hard. It was like he was scared to touch me sometimes."

He pulled away, looking her dead in the eye. Even in her blissful, drugged-out state, Clarke felt like whatever he said next would be important. "I'm not scared, Princess."

"You don't kiss like you are."

"For the record, neither do you."

Clarke pulled herself over him so she was straddling his lap. She leaned down. They were panting and sweaty and they hadn't even made it past first base yet. A side effect of the drugs, or something deeper? "Well, let's do it. Let's get this shit out of our system."

Because even sober Clarke knew that since she'd met him, she was dying to get her hands on him in a way that counted, in a way that was closer than close. Something about him, some gravitational pull. Lexa was a force of nature. Clarke couldn't escape it. But Bellamy was different - he was fundamental, or maybe inevitable. She couldn't think of the right word, but then he started kissing her neck again and she abandoned her search for it. This night was beyond words.

Not for Bellamy, though. "I want you to be my last," he said, in that same voice, laced with wonder or awe, that made Clarke feel lucky. And they sank together into the backseat of the borrowed pick-up truck that smelled of mildew and something wooden. But Bellamy smelled like pine trees. He tasted like strawberries. She felt starry. She felt wondrous and wonderful. This was right.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

When the drugs had officially worn off and they were fully clothed again, her certainty had disappeared. They sat in their respective seats, her behind the wheel this time and Bellamy in the passenger seat. Her hair was ruffled and she knew she looked like a mess. They were still sitting in the Friendsy's parking lot, painfully sober now and awkwardly silent.

They both decided to try to break it at the same time - "Listen, Bellamy -" she started, and "Look, let's -" he said, and then they both laughed a little bit. And Clarke grinned and said, "You go first."

He looked down, blushing just a little. "I think we both got carried away." He looked back up at her, a question in his eyes. She nodded her reassurance. "You've got Lexa, and I've got… well, I've got to get back to my sister. I wasn't trying to, you know, take advantage of -"

"Bellamy, relax," Clarke said, relaxing herself. "It was creature comfort. End of the world sex. Pretty good end of the world sex, I might add."

"You too. That thing with the tongue," he started, clearing his throat. Clarke laughed. "Nice touch."

"Thanks."

"But it won't happen again. We both have more important places to be," he said firmly, and she ignored the tiny sting of pain that followed his words.

"It was bound to happen eventually. So it's probably just good we got it out of our system now. Like I said."

"Right, like you said." The silence lingered a few moments longer before Bellamy met her eyes, grinned, causing all the tension to fall away from Clarke's shoulders, and said "Let's go."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Still one of the only cars on the roads, the drive was as easy as it was before the incident, which was how Clarke decided to refer to their hook-up in her head. How complicated that could have gotten - on her way to see her ex who had sent her a letter professing her love, Clarke fucks the guy giving her a ride. But it sounded so crass and impersonal to consider it through those terms. It was more than that.

That line of thinking, however, would not complicate things any less. Bellamy leaned his head out the window as they passed Azgeda. He seemed to be thinking seriously of something - she couldn't tell what. She supposed she didn't know him well enough to be able to tell, though it didn't really feel like that. Clarke was so busy looking over at Bellamy that she didn't realize they were being pulled over.

"You gonna stop, Princess?"

"What?" She checked her rearview mirror and sure enough, red and blue lights were flashing behind them. "He can't be serious. Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

"Well, how fast were you going?" Bellamy joked.

"We're the only ones on the fucking road!"

"Apparently not. Seriously, though Clarke, I don't think we want to get into a shootout before we get to Polis."

Clarke hesitated one long moment before finally sighing and pulling to the side of the empty highway. The walk from the officer's car to theirs seemed like an eternity, but she still didn't roll her window down until he rapped on it, sharply.

"Hi, Officer, what seems to be the problem?"

"You were going about fifteen miles over the speed limit."

"Oh. Okay, sorry, we'll slow -"

"And you've got a dead tail light. And your plates. They're expired."

"Right," Clarke said, nodding, trying her hardest to be polite. "Why don't you write us a ticket? Make it as expensive as you'd like. I'll pay it back when I have the money, maybe in a month or so?" So maybe she wasn't trying that hard.

"I need some identification."

"Of course. I'm Clarke, this is Bellamy." One glimpse at him and he was looking very proud while trying not to laugh at the same time.

The officer frowned, unable to find the humor in their situation. "I mean license and registration."

This time, Bellamy answered. "We didn't exactly have time to grab it while fleeing a deadly riot. Sorry."

Clarke leaned out the window, half-tempted to just gun it. Unfortunately, she was pretty sure the officer was stupid enough to get hit. So instead of committing vehicular manslaughter a few weeks before everyone's guaranteed expiration date, she tried some damage control. "Look, we don't have much time and I promise we'll be more careful. I'll see if anyone can fix the tail light at my earliest convenience. But couldn't you, just this once, find it in your heart to set the law aside so my friend can get to his family before we all reach our untimely conclusion?"

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

So it figured that they were spending the night in adjoining jail cells. At least they could talk through the bars. Clarke didn't really feel like talking, though. They were the only ones there. She wondered if the other prisoners had staged a jailbreak or if she and Bellamy were just that unlucky to be the only ones in jail weeks before the end of the world. Her back was to Bellamy. She was so wracked with guilt she didn't even want to look at him.

"Sorry. I ruin my own life and then I go and ruin yours, too."

His reply was almost as weary as hers, but meant to be reassuring just the same. "No, Princess. You didn't. I had a really long head start." Some words sprang to her lips telling him that no, there was no way he could have ruined his own life, but silence had already settled between the two of them. And then he surprised her by asking a question no one in her life had dared to ask in a very long time: "Why aren't you with your family?"

The effect was the same as always, whenever anyone unknowingly asked about her family. Like someone had laid a sheet of ice over her insides. "I don't really have any. My dad, um, you already know he died when I was nineteen. And my mom… had sunk into addiction long before then." What she didn't say was that her dad died in the passenger seat of the family car, where he'd climbed after her mom, doped up and hellbent on driving to see something that she wouldn't tell either of them about, had driven him into a tree. She survived with barely a scratch. Her dad hadn't been so lucky.

"I'm so sorry, Clarke." Bellamy's back had been pressed to hers through the bars, so she could feel him turn to look at her. But she didn't move a muscle.

"You would've liked my dad. He would have liked you, too."

"You think so?"

Her heart constricted at the thought of them together. She could see it so clearly. Her dad would've liked the way Bellamy laughed, like a little kid, so open and surprising. He would have liked the way he was there for her. "Yeah. I do."

"How long has it been since you've seen your mom?" His voice was wary as he asked the question. Somehow, she was okay with it. She'd been carrying this inside of her for so long. With numbered days, Clarke wanted to let go of this pain. Not because her mom deserved it. But because she wanted peace for herself. And she wanted to stop being afraid.

"Not since my dad died." She could see herself packing what was left of her stuff from her childhood home and taking off the day of the funeral, when her mom was too high to show up. She remembered crashing with Wells, using the money from her Dad's will to pay her way through med school. She remembered how each day it got easier. And she still felt the certainty that she had done the right thing.

But Bellamy's arms suddenly around her, reaching between the bars to hold her, reminded her of the pain. Or maybe, it just brought the pain to the forefront after she'd spent so long trying to push it down. And she found herself crying over something she thought had long since passed - but it didn't feel like pain returning. It felt like letting go.

Only twenty minutes after that, when they had gone back to silence, a fresh face showed up, sighing deeply upon the sight of them. "You've got to be shitting me." Clarke noticed his badge straight away, but before making another appeal for their release, he beat her to it. "Sorry. Arresting people has sort of become Russell's coping mechanism. Your truck's been impounded already, but can I give you two a ride anywhere?"

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

For some reason, Clarke was absurdly nervous as they got out of the cop car and stepped into the Azgeda sunshine. It was Bellamy's ex. So what? Why was this supposed to change anything? The thing he cared about most was getting to Octavia. Echo couldn't distract him that much. Could she?

"You sure she's still here?"

"No. But it's our best shot." And then, without a word of warning, he rapped on what was most likely her front door. Whether Clarke was ready or not, she would have to face whoever opened it. Of _course_ she was gorgeous.

"Bellamy," Echo said, her voice deep and full. "I figured I'd see you sometime. Took longer than I'd thought."

"Echo," he said, a little stiffly. Clarke's hand found his, almost unthinkingly, and Echo's eyes darted to their intertwined fingers and the up to Clarke's face.

"Who's this?"

"This is Clarke. We were hoping you'd help us."

Her face was impassive, hard to read. So Clarke was surprised when she stepped aside and said, "Come in."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy hadn't said much about Echo when they were on the road, so Clarke had no idea what to expect. And as Echo lead them down one, then two, then three flights of stairs, each story darker than the next, she wasn't exactly sure murder wasn't an option. Echo was strong. You could tell just by looking at her. And Bellamy could probably take her, but what if there were others? Still, he didn't seem nervous. He hadn't let go of Clarke's hand after she'd grabbed his, and he was squeezing it reassuringly now. Well, if Echo was a murderer, at least she and Bellamy would go side by side.

But, luckily, that wasn't the case. She wasn't a killer. She was a survivalist. "Walls are twelve-inch solid titanium and I've got food to last for six months at least. Resurfacing won't be easy. But now that you're here, the issue of leadership is settled." Clarke and Bellamy came to the same realization at the same time - Echo wanted Bellamy to stay. He was opening his mouth to respond, but Clarke cut him off. She saw something that she thought would interest him more.

"Is that a satellite phone?"

Echo looked her way reluctantly. "Yes. Got someone you want to call?"

"I don't. But I think Bellamy might."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Clarke wished she'd brought her phone with her. She'd ditched it because cell towers had stopped working and it basically became useless. But she'd give anything to be able to have a picture of Bellamy's face when he heard his sister's voice.

"O?" He said her name like it was the best sound to ever have crossed his lips. Clarke wondered what it would be like to be loved that much. There were tears in his eyes. Clarke could hear his sister's tinny response coming across the other end, only because she was still so close to Bellamy. She wanted to give him some privacy but he had pulled her with him.

"Bell?" She sounded just as emotional as her brother.

"I miss you like crazy. Tell me everything. How's Lincoln?"

"He's great. He's right here. Do you want me to -"

"No, don't put him on. I want to keep talking to you."

"I was going to offer to put it on speaker phone, dumbass," Octavia said. Clarke laughed a little bit to herself. Yeah. Definitely siblings. "But he's doing well. And, uh, so is your nephew."

Bellamy tensed for a moment. Then, any semblance of restraint went out the window. Tears were sliding freely down his face but Clarke had never seen him smile so big. She was glad he wanted her to be part of it, but she slowly crept away. Some things were between family.

Clarke expected to just hang around in the back of the room in undisturbed silence, but once she was untethered from Bellamy, Echo sought her out immediately. "Clarke, right?"

She nodded.

"I'm sorry, but there's no room for you here."

"Um… I'm not sure I understand."

"I mean that this bunker can only support a handful of people. I saved room for one extra person. I had a hunch he'd be back." She paused a moment to consider Bellamy, talking intently on the phone across the room and Clarke could see a glimmer of fondness in Echo's eye. It vanished once she turned her attention back to Clarke. "I didn't expect he'd bring luggage."

"I don't think he's here to stay."

"Clarke, how long have you known Bellamy?"  
There was no way to say this without damning herself. "About a week and a half. Give or take."

"I've known him for three years. And he might seem soft, and kind. Gentle, even. But inside, he's all survivor. If his best chance at living past this planet's due date is underground with me, he's going to take it. I just don't want you to be disappointed."

Clarke mulled this over in silence. Echo could be right. But she had faith that Bellamy wouldn't hurt her, that he'd keep his word. And besides, one thing wasn't adding up. "You might have known him longer, but if you really knew Bellamy, you'd know that he would never abandon his sister."

There was a flicker of doubt on Echo's face, but just a flicker. If Clarke hadn't been paying attention, she would have seemed as unphased as ever. But their brief yet tense conversation was cut short when Bellamy interrupted. "Hey," he said, reaching for Clarke's arm. "We should go."

The fact that Echo didn't betray any surprise impressed Clarke. But maybe part of her had known this was coming. "You're not staying." It wasn't a question.

Bellamy's answer surprised at least one of them, though. "I promised I'd take her somewhere," he said, gesturing to Clarke. Not Octavia. Not 'I don't want to.' He made a promise to Clarke and he was going to uphold it. She said nothing, though. At this rate, it was better to let Bellamy do all the talking. "Look. Can we borrow something from the fleet?"

Echo led them up the main stories in silence, into the backyard and the sunny day. There were a bunch of small, cheap-looking cars parked in a large garage. "This is a loan, Bellamy. I want to see it back here with you in it." She cast a quick glance over at Clarke. "And Octavia, of course."

So much for no extra room. "Thank you, Echo," Bellamy said softly. "For everything. Good luck. If anyone can jumpstart humanity, it's you." He turned to get into the one closest to where they were standing, but Echo grabbed his arm. Clarke looked away, pretending not to hear.

"I should have married you," Echo whispered.

Bellamy's laugh was a bit mean, but Clarke could sense lingering traces of pain. "When?" he said this as if it was a joke.

Echo answered him anyway. Simply, with no pretense. The end of the world was not a time for lies. "When you would have said yes."

No one said anything else. Bellamy climbed into the car, Clarke followed, and Echo watched them pull away until she was nothing more than a spot in the distance. Clarke had a feeling she remained a bit longer, even after they were safely out of sight.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

By the time they left Echo's, they were only three hours away from Polis and the address on Lexa's letter. Clarke was feeling a bit of dread, but Bellamy didn't seem to share it. He even seemed excited, and not just from his call with Octavia. There was something else there - some glimmer in his eyes. She had a guess what it was: a reminder of purpose. He'd had fun, driving with Clarke, spending his time with her, but he'd gone because he had somewhere he needed to go. Hearing his sister's voice on the phone had reminded him of that.

So, of course he was looking forward to the end. The countdown on her time with Bellamy ticked louder than the countdown for the end of the world. But Clarke just smiled as he went on, looking out the window so he wouldn't see that the smile didn't reach her eyes. "She sounded great. Really happy."

"Happy." Clarke felt a pain in her heart. "I'm impressed. She must be pretty special if she can be happy right now."

She could hear the frown in Bellamy's voice when he responded to her. "I'm happy. You're not?"

"I'm… it's complicated. How can it not be?"

He was quiet for so long that Clarke thought she must have said something wrong, but he was just looking at her, very thoughtfully. She felt better once she met his gaze. "You'll see, Clarke. It won't be complicated for long. I can't tell you why I know, but trust me, I know."

Clarke guessed he was talking about Lexa. Of course it wasn't complicated for him - he'd get to see his sister soon. Maybe he wasn't okay with dying, but he'd lived a life he could be proud of. Yes, she was happy now, because she was with Bellamy. Bellamy made her happier than anything before had ever done.

It was complicated because there was a time-stamp on it. She wouldn't get to spend the rest of her short life with him. Maybe not even the rest of the day. He had faith in a future, even a very limited one because he would be with the person he most wanted to be with in the world.

Lucky him.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The afternoon drifted in a pleasant haze. They talked about what they would miss, what they wouldn't. Bellamy surprised her with what he'd miss. "Humanity," he said, originally.

"Uh, that's a little broad, don't you think?"

"No, I mean… the history of humanity. That's what kills me. The Roman gladiators, the ancient Greek plays, all of that history - just gone. No way to keep it preserved anymore."

"Wouldn't have taken you for a nerd, Bellamy."

He laughed, sneaking another look at her instead of the road. Clarke didn't care if one of his looks drove them into a tree. If she was gonna die in a fiery explosion, it might as well be with Bellamy's eyes on her. But she shook that thought away as Bellamy said, "Wouldn't have taken you for an artist, either, Princess, but we're all full of surprises."

Yeah. He was right. He'd done nothing if not surprise her.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Finally, yet all too soon, they'd arrived at Lexa's house. Bellamy had an odd expression on his face that Clarke was probably reading too much into. But his voice was light when he said, "You knew her in college, right? So were you ever here?"

"One winter break." One pretty glorious winter break. Clarke was hit with nostalgia so hard it made her dizzy. She had been happy here - uncomplicatedly happy. She wished she could be back there, before her father died, before Lexa left, before the Earth got its expiration date and before she met Bellamy who had turned what was left of her world upside down.

There was too much going on inside her, but this was the house, and here was Lexa's door, and Clarke shut every voice in her head off and went on autopilot. They had arrived at their destination, so what did she do now? Well, that was obvious. She went to the front door and knocked. But as she lifted up her hand, she had a moment of hesitation. She couldn't name exactly what it was that stopped her - or rather, there were too many names to it. It wasn't until Bellamy's hand found the small of her back and his warm voice said, "I'm right here if you need me," that Clarke found the courage.

She rapped on the door three times. Waited.

And waited.

And knocked again.

And waited.

Felt Bellamy's hand on her shoulder.

Shut her eyes tightly.

Then turned around to go. "Nobody's home."

Bellamy met her eyes and nodded, seeming to read something in them. Having no clue herself what she was feeling, Clarke wondered what he saw. She brushed past him, headed to the car, feeling strange and disappointed, but surprisingly okay, when she heard a crash behind her.

She whirled around to find Bellamy's hand through a smashed window, fiddling with the lock on the door. It only took a moment for him to get it, and he smiled triumphantly at her as it swung open. "Well, we've driven all this way."

A laugh bubbled up and out of her as she made her way back towards him. "You're insane."

"Come on." He winked, and then disappeared inside. So she followed him, unafraid.

The house still smelled the same. It's strange, the things you don't even realize you remember until you're right in the middle of a memory. "Bellamy, what are you expecting you'll find?" In her mind, she had a brief flash of the unthinkable - a body, long since dead. The possibility was always there. It was there for a lot of people. With a shudder, Clarke realizes it had not too long ago been a real possibility for her. But if Lexa was at all like Clarke remembered her, then that wouldn't have been her way. And Bellamy wouldn't have opened that door if that was what he thought they'd find. He had no way of knowing, but Clarke trusted he wouldn't have led her astray.

"We're looking for anything with an address."

Bellamy took the bedrooms - too many memories for Clarke there - and she scoured the kitchen and the living room, but no dice. At a certain point, not after too long honestly, they both decided to take a break. Maybe it was meant to be that Clarke couldn't find Lexa. But this couch still smelled like her, and that made her sad. Nostalgic. She was longing for something. But what?

The scent of the past blended with the pleasant aroma of something else in the house - and was someone humming? - as Clarke, not meaning to, drifted off into a deeper sleep than she'd had for awhile.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

She woke up to a gentle hand softly touching the side of her face. The hand was rough, but the touch was so nice that for a moment, Clarke leaned into it until gradually, she came back to herself and opened her eyes to see Bellamy. His gentle touch matched nicely with the smile on his face, and again, her fingers itched for a pencil. Would she die without ever drawing anything again? That would be okay, as long as she could draw him. Something to have to remember him by once he got on that plane.

"Sorry to wake you," he said, reluctantly pulling his hand away.

"Sorry for falling asleep on you. How long was I out?"

"Not too long. About an hour. I think you needed it." He sat down next to her on the couch as she sat up, and Clarke could see that it was dark outside. Bellamy had lit a bunch of candles rather than turning on the lights and it gave his face an orange glow. It took a moment for her to realize that he held two dishes in his hand. She figured that was why she was woken up. Bellamy followed her gaze and said, "Boxed pasta and canned tomato sauce. There wasn't much else in that kitchen."

Clarke gratefully took the bowl, and she was mid-bite when Bellamy said, with an edge to his voice that she couldn't quite place, "I found something else in there, too." She looked at him, feeling nervous for no reason. He held up a letter. "A return address." He paused to clear his throat and Clarke's stomach sank. Why was it sinking?

"Where did you find this?"

"The kitchen."

Clarke grabbed it from him. "I already checked the kitchen."

"It was on top of the fridge. Some of us are over five foot five, Princess." She half-heartedly hit him on the shoulder. He smiled, but his mouth was closed and it quickly fell away. "I figured you'd want to go as soon as possible."  
Without even thinking about it, she said, "Let's go in the morning."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Let's crash here tonight and go find her in the morning. We could both use the rest."

Some of the tension in Bellamy's shoulders fell away as she said that, and he smiled a rather beautiful grin. But it was a little bit sad, too. Because it was complicated. How could it not be? Still, he reached for yet another surprise. "Then this doesn't have to be a goodbye gift."

He handed her a sketchbook and a box of colored pencils. Clarke was so touched and so stunned that the only words out of her mouth were, "Where did you find these?"

Bellamy sighed. "In the bedroom. I think she was preparing for you to come find her, Clarke."

"But you gave them to me."  
"Don't give me too much credit. I just knew you'd want them." He got up to put his dish in the sink and Clarke's ever-softening heart softened just a little bit more. Of course he knew that. Because he knew her.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Well, it didn't take long to find the wine and break it open, and by the time midnight struck, they were both pleasantly buzzed. They were both laughing as Bellamy uncorked the second bottle, and Clarke was reminded how much she enjoyed being wine-drunk. Not long after that, Bellamy found the records. She remembered his apartment, and the record collection he had. Now that she knew what a nerd he was, it didn't surprise her that he was obsessed with vinyl. It took him a ridiculously long time to pick one he liked, so Clarke's expectations were high by the time the needle found the groove.

She was surprised when she recognized the song. Moonlight Serenade. Her dad had loved it. Bellamy just stood in front of her, reaching a hand out, and he looked so beautiful, and so wonderful, and jesus christ, oh god, her dad would have loved him so much. She loved him so much. She loved him she loved him she loved him. And now she was going to dance with him.

Clarke took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. And then she let him pull her close. With her heart pressed to his chest, she could hear his heartbeat, and the spaces in between each quiet thump. She couldn't hear her own, but she felt as if maybe it was responding to his silences, like their two hearts were having a conversation that neither of them could hear, but both of them understood. She would never say something like that out loud, but with Bellamy, she knew she didn't have to.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a jazz fan."

Bellamy hummed, noncommittally. "Maybe I just wanted something romantic."

Clarke's breath hitched, but she didn't move her head to look at him. "Romantic? How come?"

Bellamy's voice was soft, and she could hear the smile in it. "Oh, just let me have this."

"What are you talking about, Bellamy?"

His hand moved from her shoulder blades down to the small of her back. Clarke fought a shudder. "You're really going to make me say it? I didn't think you'd be so cruel."

The word struck her, in an odd sort of happy way. "Cruel?"

"Clarke, we're in your ex-girlfriend's house. We're going to see her in the morning. Just let me dance with you, all right?"

He was just drunk, and so was she, just like when they were drugged. That _was _it, wasn't it? Sure it was. Sure. Clarke was going to tell herself that right now, because she couldn't bear the magnitude of the full truth tonight. Because there _was_ something cruel about it. A week and two days. That was all they had left together. Even less. So she nestled herself closer to him and murmured, "All right, Bellamy."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Clarke had her nap earlier, so Bellamy fell asleep first, a record still playing quietly. He clearly took the couch expecting her to take the bed, but Clarke got distracted. She picked up her pencils and her sketchpad. After just a moment of deliberation, she picked up the black pencil. When Lexa knew her, she was all about color - and it was true that Bellamy felt vibrant. But lately, there seemed to be more truth in simple black sketches. And all around her apartment, used as bookmarks, sometimes coasters, were her charcoal sketches.

She wanted Bellamy to belong with them. Days of studying him and wishing for this moment made the sketch come easily. He looked gentler through pencil marks, less heavy. Maybe Bellamy was a different person than when Echo knew him, but it was clear he still carried some heaviness around with him. It fell away when he slept. The soft smudges of pencil worked perfectly to capture his sleeping form. How fitting that her favorite drawing she's ever done would be her last. It probably wasn't her best. But it was her favorite.

It was of her favorite person, after all. After finishing, Clarke folded the drawing up and slid it into the pocket of her jeans. Then careful not to wake him, she curled up on the floor right under his hand, hanging loosely off the side of the couch. And then Clarke drifted off into the best goddamned sleep of her life.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Of course, Bellamy gave her hell for it the next morning. "Why didn't you take the bed?"

"Too many memories," Clarke lied.

"You should've woken me up." He said this with a sense of injustice, and Clarke had to resist the urge to laugh at him. But then he picked up the letter and both of them sobered up. "Is the address close?"

"Pretty close, yeah."

"I guess we should go, then."

"I guess we should."

They spent a few half-hearted minutes trying to clean up a house that no one would ever return to. Clarke tried to goad Bellamy into conversation, but he was decidedly more close-lipped than last night. That was to be expected, she supposed. She might have been a little bit drunk, but she didn't think any other words ever spoken to her could have been burned onto her memory like his. Apparently, he didn't know that.

When he slid behind the wheel, there was a moment where there seemed to be no breath in the car at all. He gripped the steering so tightly his knuckles were white. They couldn't dismiss what he'd said as creature comfort this time. And it was clear he wasn't going to bring it up, so neither would she.

Besides, she needed to focus on navigating. Clarke knew this area so-so. Lexa had shown her around while she'd stayed, all of childhood's hideaways, the nooks and crannies you got to know. It was like Lexa took charge of the whole neighborhood - Clarke liked imagining her like that. A little commander, charting territory. Although, it didn't stay innocent for long. She blushed just thinking about what Lexa had whispered in her ear, every place she'd taken her. "Let's ruin my childhood."

So maybe it wasn't just a fun scavenger hunt through the past that had taken Clarke all over. Hey, it was college. At least it meant she knew the streets. So it was only a ten minute drive, taken mostly in silence. But when they finally pulled up in front of the house after triple-checking they had the right address, they sat frozen in the car, staring up at the house.

Clarke knew they saw it at the same time - Lexa's silhouette in the upstairs window. The sight of that finally broke Bellamy's silence. "Should I disappear?" He was trying to smile and failing miserably.

"Just wait in the car. I'll be back."

"Okay," he said, turning the ignition off and letting the low hum of the engine go silent. He held her eyes for a second, and the intensity seemed to be too much, because he looked quickly away. "Good luck."

She reached over and squeezed his hand before climbing out of the car. She slipped her hand into her back pocket, feeling for the thicker folded paper and pulling it out. She stood on Lexa's doorstep a moment, breathing in, breathing out. She knew that Lexa was right up there, waiting for her. She'd dreamed about their reunion for years. But in the end, when she saw Bellamy's reflection through one of Lexa's front windows, looking heartbroken and worried, there wasn't even a decision to make. She slipped the letter she'd stayed up late last night writing through the mail slot and turned around.

Clarke was buckling her seatbelt before she'd even been gone a minute.

Bellamy looked baffled. "What happened? You saw that she was up there, right?"

"Yeah, I saw," Clarke said. "I wrote her a letter. She'll get it as soon as she comes downstairs."

He still looked confused. "A letter? What did it say?"

Clarke bit her lip, sighing. "It doesn't matter."

"Why don't you want to see her? What's changed?" Bellamy said, sounding so concerned she felt like she could cry.

"We can't talk about this, Bellamy."

He sat back in his seat, looking a bit hurt. "Why not?"

She didn't look at him. People had gone through much worse, but it felt like an enormous sacrifice to say this. "Because I don't want it to change anything. You have somewhere you need to be."

His breath hitched. Clarke could hear that. "And what about you? What's changed for you?"

She sighed again, feeling complicated. "Just drive away before she comes out and I see that her tits have gotten bigger and I change my mind."

There was a moment - one moment - that happened just then, the one moment she would have picked to live in forever were she given the option. If a gun was placed to her head (or an asteroid fired at the earth), she might have said it was one of the best moments of her life. Top five, at least. It was the moment Bellamy's face broke into the widest, most beautiful grin she had ever seen - the moment he realized just what Clarke's choice had been.

"I drive you all the way across the country and you chicken out?" he said, but his voice was kind, teasing, free of the tension from moments before.

"What can I say? I changed my mind." She waited for the sound of the engine, but before he turned it on, he reached out and placed his hand over hers.

"You're crazy if you think you're not coming with me."

And this was the moment she realized what _his _choice was. Her heart was pounding. She hoped to god she hadn't gotten it wrong. But she knew she hadn't. So she smiled, a breathless, beautiful smile, and whispered,"_Now _will you say it?"  
He threw his head back, pretending to be annoyed. In truth, Clarke had never seen him look happier. It gave her a warm glow to know that she was responsible for that. "Fine. Clarke Griffin, I fucking love you. Are you happy now?"

She leaned over and kissed him in his ex-girlfriend's tiny car, outside her ex-girlfriend's home, with his picture in her pocket and her heart in his hands, one week before the end of the world. The best kiss of her goddamned life. "Yeah. I'm happy."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

For the first time since taking their road trip, they took a deliberate break. There was a beach she had gone to years ago, all alone, while Lexa was doing errands. Maybe she'd expected it to be empty, but it was full. And the people there looked happy. Most of them were families. Not everyone had an end-of-the-world mission. Most people, or at least these people, were just trying to be happy while they still could be.

And they did look happy. Clarke hoped she looked happy too. She hoped she looked in love.

She and Bellamy spent a few hours there, talking, kissing, telling stories. Mostly kissing. But by the time the sun started to set, Clarke figured it was time to go. The plane was only a couple hours away. And if there wasn't much time, she wanted Bellamy to be able to spend all of it with Octavia. Clarke wondered what it would be like to meet her, if Octavia would like her, if in another world, they could have been great friends. She wanted to think so. She wanted to love anyone Bellamy loved.

It was a strange kind of ecstasy, this day with Bellamy. It felt sacred and stolen, something they had taken back from the apocalypse, a little piece of life to call their own. It felt like an act of rebellion, a fuck you to the asteroid, to be this happy this close to the end.

But it was time to go. Clarke drove the rest of the way, since she knew where they were going and Bellamy didn't. She still kept decidedly close-lipped about the plane because the truth was, she still didn't know if it would be an option, or if the person who could fly it would be able to help. Or even still be alive. It had been a really long time since she had heard from them. But for some reason, they had lucked out in every possible way on this trip, so she was decidedly optimistic.

Still, when they pulled into the house's driveway, in the middle of batshit nowhere, Bellamy looked a little wary. It did look a little like the beginning of a horror film. "Where are we?" he asked as Clarke parked.

"Come on." She stepped out of the car, wishing she could turn around, wishing the length from the driveway to the door was farther. But then, Bellamy slipped his hand into hers and she knew that she could face whatever was behind that door - not only that she could, but that she had to, for Bellamy.

She had only been to this house once before. It was smaller than she'd remembered. And so quiet. Bellamy, thankfully, lifted his hand up to knock so Clarke wouldn't have to. The silence afterwards was deafening. What if no one answered? What would they do then? But then Clarke saw a rustling at the curtain and a familiar eye peeked out.

Was it bad that the sight of it made Clarke almost happy? Or maybe just relieved? Shortly after, the door opened. If Abby was surprised, her face made no betrayal of it. It was only the tone of voice that let Clarke know her mom was happy to see her. "Clarke," she breathed.

"Hi, Abby. Can we come in?"

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Abby had called her five times since the funeral, since Clarke had left her old life behind and never looked back. Clarke sent all the calls to voicemail. The first call was from rehab. She had to apologize to her daughter as part of the program. "But I want to see you. It's not just for the program, it's because… I never… Clarke, I've never… Just call me please. I'm sorry."

Clarke didn't leave her bed for almost three days. Wells had to bring her meals. That first year was the worst. Abby called again once she'd left rehab, still sober. The third time was when she gave the address of this house, a little cottage that she'd inherited from her dad. Clarke had driven out here only once, with Wells. As soon as she saw her mother in the garden, she'd panicked and left. The fourth call was just checking in, and it happened to fall on the anniversary of Jake's death. The last call was the day they announced that an asteroid shooting towards Earth was going to kill them all.

Only five times in seven years. Abby wasn't one to grovel or beg. Clarke got that from her mom. There was a time when she wished she'd inherited nothing from her mother - there were still times like that. But now, face to face, she could see the wrinkles around Abby's eyes, the slight shaking in her hands, the "old lady" clothes her mother had sworn she would never wear. But what stuck out most was the utter clarity in her eyes. The lights were on. Someone was there. Nothing clouded over her vision.

Clarke never thought she'd see her mother again, let alone sober. Bellamy didn't know any of that. He didn't even know who stood in front of him. But his hand tightened around Clarke's anyway, and she was grateful, grateful to have stayed alive long enough to love him.

To her credit, Abby remained tactful, taking Clarke's lead and keeping her distance. "Who's your friend?" she asked, risking a hesitant smile.

"This is Bellamy. Bellamy, this is Abby."

Bellamy reached out his hand and Abby took it, grasping it firmly. "I'm Clarke's mother," she said. Bellamy froze for a moment, but it was so brief that Clarke was sure only she noticed it.

"Nice to meet you. You have a wonderful daughter." His voice was not unkind, but already defensive. Like he wanted Abby to know what she'd missed out on.

"I know," Abby said, eyes flickering to Clarke and then back to Bellamy. "You two must be hungry, I can prepare something if -"

"Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you."

Abby looked down for a moment, and then nodded. That was a look Clarke had never seen on her mother - shame. Guilt. She hated the sight of it, even though she knew it was right.

Bellamy, sensing that maybe this was something Clarke had to go through alone, asked for the bathroom, and though Clarke missed his presence as soon as he was gone, he knew that he was doing her a favor: he was allowing her the opportunity for peace. There wasn't much time left. Whether her mother deserved it or not, she wanted to let go of the anger inside of her. She wanted to forgive her.

Abby gestured to the couch, and Clarke took a seat, making sure not to get too comfortable. She felt like she needed to be on her guard. "Are you two together?" Abby said, with a knowing smile and a nod toward the bathroom, where Bellamy had disappeared.

Clarke tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't know. I think so." She didn't want to talk to her mother about this. This was not a time for celebration.

"That's wonderful, honey. I'm happy for you." The conversation lulled into an uncomfortable silence again. Clarke refused to break it. "I assume you're here to remind me of what happened. Of the mistakes I made."

Clarke shut her eyes. This was painful. "No, Mom. You know what happened."

"I know I could have handled things differently."

"I don't want to talk about this," Clarke said hurriedly.

But Abby had been difficult to dissuade, sober or not. "Clarke, your father -"  
"Don't talk about him," she interrupted fiercely. "Don't say his name."

"I just want to say I'm sorry."

"Then say it."

Abby bit her lip, and Clarke could see it was trembling. Her hands were shaking badly now. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have been stronger. You will never know how sorry I am."

"I know, Mom. I do know." And she did. Because as much pain as Clarke had felt over the last decade, she knew Abby. And she knew her mom had been sick. And scared. And confused. And that she'd been left all alone with only herself to blame, and the pain of that must have left an aftershock that lasted for years, that perhaps was still causing tremors and faultlines throughout her life.

And maybe, as Clarke watched her mom's shaking hands, she was finally able to forgive herself for still loving her. Her mother had gotten her father killed. She hadn't been around, not in any meaningful way, for years. But Clarke had never been able to fully expel her mother from her heart. And that was okay. At last, that was okay. "I wish I could have been there for you, Clarke," Abby whispered.

Clarke stepped forward, finally taking her mother into her arms. "You still can be."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The thing about growing up rich, like her mother did, is that you can afford a lot of extravagant hobbies. And Clarke's grandfather's favorite was flying. He loved it so much that he taught her mother how to do it, and then, when he died, left her a small plane in his will. Clarke was only eight, so she didn't know much about him, but before her mom got hooked, the plane had always been her parents' little private joke.

Her mom had said she had it stored at another family property, out in the middle of nowhere. Clarke wouldn't have ever thought of it if it weren't for the fact that her mom mentioned it once on a voicemail. She had offered Clarke a flight to Europe in hopes that it would… what? Make her laugh? Lure her back? She didn't know because she deleted the voicemail soon after. But in her heart, Clarke knew they would be lucky. That it wouldn't have been a joke, that the plane would be somewhere in the backyard.

It was. Thank god, it was. She could have cried. She grabbed Bellamy's hand tightly, and he held hers just as fiercely. Abby's shoulders still held some tension in them, though. Clarke didn't understand why until they got closer to the plane. Close enough to see it for what it was.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Abby said, turning around as if facing them was killing her. "It's old, you know, and back when he started flying… they usually only made room for one."

The seats were in a column. The pilot's seat, and the passenger's seat behind it. No one else could fit. The plane probably couldn't stay in the air with any more weight than that. Bellamy's hand dropped from hers. Clarke couldn't brace herself to look at him. "You should go."

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw his entire body turn to face her. She knew that he was trying to get her to face him, too, but she couldn't. "Clarke -"

"Bellamy, go."

"Will you look at me?" She could never refuse him anything. She turned towards him. He looked devastated, absolutely destroyed. But resolute. Stubborn. Like his mind was made up. "We're staying together. Okay? Together."

The word sent a stabbing pain through her heart. But she nodded. "Together."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

They decided to stay the night at Abby's, who conveniently had a guest room, and then regroup in the morning. But Clarke wasn't sleeping. Lucky for Bellamy, he was able to drop off almost right away. The day had been exhausting, full of twist after twist, and any day ending in heartbreak was enough to make you want to sleep forever.

But Clarke wasn't sleeping. Clarke was in the kitchen, thinking over what they were doing. Thinking about a plan. And one kept nudging at her - it was risky, though. Maybe too risky. So many things could go wrong. She could see the spectacular failure now. But… but screw it. It was his sister. He needed to get home to her, if there was any chance of that happening.

She went to the bedroom and hesitated a moment before shaking Bellamy awake. He looked so beautiful in the dark. And peaceful. And she could have him. He was hers. That was a beautiful thing, a miracle in and of itself. And it was not small or inconsequential; it was everything. She was lucky, so lucky. She knew that, and made sure that it was held firmly in her mind as she shook him awake.

He awoke with a start. "Clarke? What's wrong?"

"I couldn't sleep. I made some tea."

There was a moment, the briefest moment, where she was afraid he would just go back to sleep. But he sat up almost immediately, and she felt foolish for even considering it. It wasn't that she didn't know Bellamy. It was that she was so nervous, and she knew he could already tell.

Clarke didn't turn the lights on, but she handed Bellamy his orange mug, taking the yellow one. She took longer to drink than he did, because it felt nice, the way the mug was warming her hands and because it was nice to pretend that she and Bellamy could do this everyday, could sit together in the small hours of the morning and drink tea in silence.

"Clarke, what's going on?"

She didn't meet his eyes. She wanted to get the words out safely first. "I've been thinking."

"Of course you have." There was fondness in his voice.

"I didn't tell you this, because I didn't think it would matter, but… one summer, when I was sixteen, my mom enrolled me in flying lessons."

"Wow. You're more of a princess than I thought."

Even during her nervous monologue, she managed to shoot him a glare. "I haven't flown since then, but maybe it's like riding a bike. Maybe you never forget how. And this is our last chance."

Bellamy caught on to what she was implying relatively quickly, but he still looked wary. "No way, Clarke. I'm not putting your life in danger just so you can keep your promise."

She had a feeling he'd react that way. "Look. I'm either gonna die in a fiery explosion in seven days, or I'm going to die in a fiery explosion in a couple hours. Either way, I'm with you."

For one moment, she was sure he'd refuse. But he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and Clarke realized he was steeling himself. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as we finish our tea," Clarke whispered, gesturing to his abandoned mug.

In a typical Bellamy move, he picked it up, downed it in nearly one gulp, and grinned. "Let's go." Clarke didn't take long in finishing hers. She couldn't. She wished she could, though. Right now, they were safe and together. That was no small thing.

But within half a minute they were heading out to the backyard. There were heatbugs and crickets chirping. She wondered if any of them would survive the asteroid. "C'mon, Bellamy. The plane's behind the garage," she said, noticing he was slowing down a bit.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm just feeling a little -" His knees started to buckle, and Clarke was at his side, throwing his arm over her shoulder and placing her hand on his chest, holding him up. "Sorry, I don't know what just happened," he said, looking confused.

"You're probably just tired. We're almost there. Come on."

She had to support him more and more as they got closer and closer, but Abby's backyard was a relatively small one, and they were almost to the plane when he said, "Clarke, something's wrong."

She shut her eyes. She just needed twenty more seconds. "Here, get in. I'll check you out. Med school, remember?"

He nodded, his eyes a little unfocused. Clarke basically had to push him into the plane, but he still had the wherewithal to make it easy on her. He was seated firmly in the passenger seat of the plane. Only one more step now, and everything would be okay. Clarke reached across him and put his seatbelt on, making sure he was secure. She stepped back, her bare feet on the grass. She had forgotten to put shoes on. Thank god Bellamy hadn't noticed.

But he definitely noticed now. He rolled his head toward her, still too conscious for Clarke's liking. But he wouldn't be able to get out. "Clarke, what's happening?"

She tried not to cry. She owed it to him not to cry. "You have to see your sister. I promised I'd get you there."

"Hey, hey," he said, trying to be angry, but failing. His voice was barely a whisper. "Clarke, don't do this."

She looked to the pilot's seat, where he hadn't even noticed Abby waiting. "Mom, you ready?"

"Clarke," Bellamy said, feebly trying to reach up and unbuckle his seatbelt, but his arms fell limply to his side. "You don't understand."

"I'm ready, honey."

Bellamy had fallen silent, either out of the realization that there was nothing he could do, or the sedative finally fully kicking in. But his eyes were still wide open, looking at her with such intense betrayal that Clarke almost couldn't face him. But she had been this brave so far; she had to be brave enough to do that.

But his blinks were coming quicker and quicker, and she knew that it was now or never, the last thing she'd ever be able to say to him. "You are the love of my life," she whispered. She leaned in and kissed his forehead, sweaty and tangled and lovely. When she pulled away, he was out. With shaking hands, she pulled her drawing of him out of her back pocket and slipped it into the pocket of his shirt, the one closest to his heart.

"Are you okay?" her mother's voice came to her like an echo in a dream. Clarke nodded, numbly, turning away from the boy she loved for the final time. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going back to my apartment. I'm going to go home," she said, and finally burst into tears.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The drive wasn't nearly as long this time around. Clarke downed three red bulls she found at an abandoned supermarket, sped the whole way back without sleeping once. Turns out when you don't have to spend the night in several different places, don't have to make any detours and don't have anyone distracting you by falling in love with you, you can get where you're going a lot faster, and Clarke made it home in about a day and a half.

But when she opened her door, she was filled with loneliness so strong and so stifling that she knew she couldn't stay there. And then it hit her that Bellamy had landed by now. About three hours ago, if her mother's estimations were correct. She hoped he wasn't too hard on Abby when he woke up halfway through the flight. Knowing him, he probably got them both killed. And nothing in that thought should have made Clarke laugh, but it did a little bit. It felt nice to laugh.

But she wasn't staying in her apartment. She went straight to the bedroom, climbed through the window, up the fire escape, jimmied Bellamy's window open and slid inside. It smelled like him. Oh god, she missed him so much. It was worth it, though. It had to be worth it or else - Clarke didn't want to think about that. She didn't know exactly what to do. She tried turning on his TV, wondering if cable even worked anymore.

Maybe it would have been better if she didn't. Only one thing was playing, and she had a feeling it was playing on all channels. "The asteroid will be arriving five days ahead of schedule. Let me repeat: the asteroid will be arriving five days ahead of schedule. Impact is scheduled for tonight, 12:33 AM." The newscaster was almost overcome with emotion, but he cleared his throat, and kept going. "This will be our final broadcast together. It has been my pleasure to bring you the news for twenty-seven years. Tonight, I will be sitting across from my wife. We will be talking about our two sons. And we will be saying our prayers for each and every one of you. Good night, good luck, and god bless."

The screen went to static. Clarke tried changing the channel, but there was nothing playing anywhere anymore.

So, that was it. This time tomorrow, she'd be dead. This time in six hours, she'd be dead. She'd be nowhere, she'd be nothing, and so would everyone else. But she had done something important, something that mattered. She had loved someone, and let someone love her. She had sent him away and let him go, but she had loved him.

But still. She wondered if it would hurt. She hoped it would be quick. Clarke went over to Bellamy's stash of records and pulled out the one with the most weathered cover. It looked the most beaten-down, and so it looked the most loved. She put it on and shut her eyes. She thought of Bellamy, how he must have felt when he listened to this. Did he think it was as beautiful as she did? As beautiful and as sad?

The album played for ten minutes before Clarke started to register a faint banging noise. And was there a voice? It was muffled, and it only took her a beat to realize it was coming from the apartment beneath her. Her apartment. Jesus, was this more end of the world rioting? Whoever it was was certainly getting it in under the wire. She walked over to the record player and reluctantly turned it off, just in time to hear her door get broken down. But she was entirely unprepared for the frantic voice that was now much louder and clearer.

"Clarke! Clarke!" Nothing but her name. But there was so much feeling in it. She wanted to cry. "Clarke!" He sounded frantic. He sounded scared.

Fear started clenching her heart, too. Why was he here? How did he even know where she was? The bedroom. The fire escape. Her feet couldn't move fast enough - each second was precious, each second was slipping away, through her fingers and into the unreachable past. But Bellamy was one floor away. All she wanted was to get him.

But as soon as she swung the door open, he was already halfway through the pried open window. He practically tumbled to the ground, but he managed to keep his footing, and in an instant his arms were around her. "I thought - I thought you were -"

"What?" she gasped, feeling her face wet with tears.

"I thought I'd come back and you'd be -"

In one terrible moment, she realized what he meant and she pulled him tighter. That's why he sounded so terrified. She let out a shaky laugh. "What if it missed?"

"I'm so fucking mad at you, Clarke," he said, and then pulled her into a kiss like she'd never known. The urgency, the fear, the end-of-the-world exhilaration, all of it took her breath away. He pulled away, gasping and beautiful. "How could you let me go?"

"I don't know," she said. "It was so stupid." Reality came to back to her in bits and pieces. "I don't understand. How are you here?"

"I woke up. I made your mom turn the plane around."

"How did you know where I was?"

"I made her tell me. Practically forced it out of her. Don't think I made the best impression."

"But - but what about Octavia?"

His jaw clenched and unclenched. But his eyes never left her face. "Octavia will be okay. I just want to be with you."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

They were minutes away. She hadn't been keeping an eye on the clock, but somehow she knew it. Instinctively. And Bellamy knew it too. They were lying in bed, facing each other. Taking each other in for as long as life would let them. It wasn't until then that he told her the truth.

Why he was so okay leaving Octavia alone. "On the phone, she told me about this - this pipe dream that she'd been promising me since news first dropped. Her husband, Lincoln, works for the FBI."

Clarke smiled. "Is this confidential?"

"Who are you going to tell?" he said, and Clarke laughed. How many more times would she get to laugh? But his smile didn't last long. "It didn't sound like it would happen, he said it was a long shot, but Octavia was convinced - she was always such an optimist."

"What is it, Bellamy?"

"She's moving to space. With Lincoln and her baby. One hundred people, that's all." His eyes were closed now. Clarke could tell how much pain she was in. "But there was room. She told me…" His tongue ran over his lips. He didn't want to say it. "She was saving it for me. And I told her you had to be there, too."

"What the hell, Bellamy? Why the fuck did you turn around?"

"Did you think I wanted to spend the rest of my life alone in space knowing you were down here burning because of how fucking noble you decided to be?"

"You should be on that ship."

"So should you."

Then, there it was. 12:33 A.M. Doomsday. And the first signal was a boom so powerful that it was like the world turned sideways. "Oh, god," Clarke said, feeling her stomach drop. She was ready, but she was scared. Not as scared as Bellamy looked, though.

He pulled her close to him. The only thing distance gave them at this point was the ability to look at each other, and they kept just that much. "I wish I met you when we were younger. When we were kids."

"It couldn't have happened then," she said, a tear rolling off the bridge of her nose and onto his blue cotton t-shirt. "It could only have been now."

"But it's not enough time." Another thump. Shaking the whole world. How many people were already dead?

Clarke didn't take her eyes off him. "It never would have been." She shut her eyes for a moment, just a moment. "I'm scared."

"Me, too," Bellamy said, laughing. Laughing in spite of everything.

"I am madly in love with you, Bellamy Blake. You're my favorite, favorite thing."

"I thought maybe I could save you," he said, looking desperate. As if he could still do it.

"You did. We saved each other."

One more boom. And she knew this was it. She felt the heat on her face. She knew the world outside was on fire. Clarke reached her hand out and ran it along his jaw. Bellamy's hand was tangled in her hair. "Princess…" he whispered. Like it was something holy. Like he wanted it to be the last word to leave his lips. Like he knew it would be.

She laughed, a breathy, beautiful sound, thick with tears and love and brimming with life. The room was turning white. The world had ended. It was ending now. Thank god for the light, the fire that was killing them, the asteroid that had already signed their death certificate. Thank god. It had turned Bellamy golden. And he was so beautiful. And so loved. He was so alive. She wouldn't have to live a moment without him. He was looking at her with so much love in his eyes. Her voice would be the last thing he heard, and it was a whisper. "I'm really glad I got to know you."

And she was smiling. And he was smiling. And they were together. And they were - for this moment - alive.


End file.
